


you ought to give me wedding rings

by janie_tangerine



Category: Bastille Day (2016)
Genre: (as much as you can with these two idiots), I Blame Tumblr, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Romanticism, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:39:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: Damn it, if five years ago someone would have told him that he’d end up wanting to get married to a former thief he chased on a fucking rooftop Briar would have laughed in their face.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo I got a few Bastille Day prompts on tumblr this summer (which I haven't even finished filling haha) and I'm now attempting to repost here. This one was for an anon wanting _Sean wants to propose, has spent days choosing the perfect ring and is waiting for the right moment while being adorably flustered (but showing nothing on the outside, of course). For some reason Michael decides to test the "you ever go for my pockets again Imma shoot you in the face" rule (again) and actually does go through said pockets... only to find the ring._. IT'S AS RIDICULOUS AS YOU CAN IMAGINE FROM THE DESCRIPTION. Really it's the most tooth-rotting fluff in existence trust me on that.
> 
> As usual (sadly) these two dorks don't belong to me and the title belongs to Peter Gabriel, I just own the fluff here.

I.

 

If Karen was alive to see this, she’d be laughing her ass off at him, Sean thinks as he stares at the selection of fucking _rings_ in front of him. First, she’d have joked about having finally found someone he’d like enough to even share an apartment with, then she’d have teased him mercilessly about how he’s absolutely _not_ sure about what goddamned ring he should get, and finally she’d probably help him out.

Karen is _not_ here, though.

And Sean’s staring at a bunch of fucking _wedding rings_ because in some moment he will most probably regret (except he hasn’t for an entire month, so maybe not) he decided that he might actually want to marry his exasperating fucking _mission partner_ , and if he decides to do something he sees it through the end.

Never mind that all supposed _wedding rings_ in front of him look completely fucking wrong. He can’t imagine himself wearing any of them. Or _Michael_ wearing any of them, fuck’s sake. Also they’re CIA agents. He needs something a lot more discreet than that.

Damn it, if five years ago someone would have told him that he’d end up wanting to _get married_ to a former thief he _chased on a fucking rooftop_ he’d have laughed in their face.

And now he’s asking the clerk to show him something more discreet. Yeah, right. His cellphone vibrates and he takes it out – he knows it’s from Michael, who else would be texting him at eleven in the morning.

_I sent in that report you kept on procrastinating about, don’t ever say I never did anything for you. Btw we’re off for the next five days. Don’t even think to tell HQ there’s no need, I have plans._

“Is that the future wife?” The clerk asks.

“Er, what?”

“Sorry if I was being indiscreet,” he keeps on, “but you just smiled so suddenly, I thought it might be her.”

“Let’s say you’re not wrong,” Sean sighs, figuring there’s no need to specify the future _wife_ is a _he_. “And – oh. Maybe this could work.”

In the _more discreet_ batch of rings there’s one which – which he thinks could work. It’s a thin titanium band, of a very classy but indeed discreet gray, which would fit with pretty much everything Michael wears and which _he_ could also wear without too many heads turning. He asks to see it – yes, it definitely could work.

“I’ll get this one,” he decides, before reciting the measures.

“Very well,” the clerk replies before taking away all the other rings. “It _is_ indeed discreet. The lady doesn’t like flashy jewelry?”

“You could say so,” Briar agrees, and starts thinking of _how_ he should propose.

Fuck’s sake, he’s gone this far, he might as well go for it entirely. Especially since a part of him is somehow sure that Michael _would_ appreciate a serious proposal even if he downplays that kind of thing all the damned time.

Fuck.

He’s really doing it, he thinks as he takes out his credit card and pays for two. The clerk goes in the back of the store saying he’ll find Briar the right sizes, and comes back with a small, discreet blue box – the satin inside is pale azure. He places Michael’s ring inside it before putting it in a small bag – Briar’s own is in a less flashy box, but he doesn’t really need that now, does he.

Thing is –

He should freak out way more than he is right now.

Except that he _sees things through._ He wouldn’t have bought a ring if he didn’t mean it.

Now he just has to plan the actual proposal, and Mason should better appreciate it.

 

II.

 

Thing is: Michael only feels that something is _off_ because he’s known the man five years and lived with him for _four_ – at that point, you  _would_ know if the guy you’ve been with for that long has something going on that he’s not telling you.

But Sean Briar’s also a stubborn asshole who’s _really_ good at pretending everything is fine, so Michael only notices something’s wrong because the man sometimes looks at him _strange_ , and sometimes you have to call twice to get his attention, and once in a while he’s downright distracted and that’s just – not how it usually works.

And he’s been _weird_ for a goddamn month, which is just – not his style? He usually _does_ say it, when something’s going on. Well. It took him three years to get there, or something, but he thought they were past hiding stuff from each other. Important stuff, at least.

Anyway. Michael knows something’s off, and that’s why he searches the bastard’s pockets.

Really, he hasn’t done that in _years_. Or well, okay, he’s done that _in specific occasions_ when he was _actually asked to_ , when it came to Sean’s pockets anyways, but not _for real._ Not since that time in the car anyway. But – he doesn’t like being uncertain about the _one_ thing in his life that’s not been uncertain since he decided that stealing things was an acceptable way to pay off the bills.

So maybe he waits until Sean goes downstairs to buy groceries, it was his turn and the guy is hopeless even if he’s gone to the same supermarket for _years_ by now, so he’s going to have at least half an hour to – look. He doesn’t know if he actually wants to find out – part of him just hopes he doesn’t find anything at all and he’s just being paranoid – and he feels kind of bad about it, but –

But he has to _know_ , all right?

He searches the jacket Sean’s had on for the last three days. There’s nothing of import though – just a few receipts, his badge, the usual. He moves upwards –

And then he finds a box in the inside pocket.

A small box, for that matter.

What the hell. He takes it out and looks at it – it’s blue, and it’s definitely something you’d use for _rings_ , it’s obviously from a jewelry store –

Wait a fucking moment.

_Rings_?

His fingers start shaking ever so slightly as he opens it.

And – fuck’s sake.

There’s actually a ring inside it. A nice, discreet titanium band that going by the looks should totally fit his own ring finger, it’s just about the right size.

He’s horrified at his own reaction when he snaps it closed and a noise comes from his throat that – he doesn’t even know what it was but he’s heard that in a bunch of romantic comedies just before the female lead broke down in relieved tears for some reason.

He places the box back in its place, then puts the jacket where he found it making sure it looks exactly like it did before, then he goes back into bed and proceeds to hide his face against the pillow and have a freak-out of major proportions.

As far as it goes, anyway, because of course something was off, _the guy actually bought a ring and unless he’s seeing something else he’s planning on fucking proposing to_ him _and that was not what Michael had thought was going on_ , and –

He tries to just stop himself from crying on top of freaking out because he doesn’t need anyone to find out that he actually _saw_ the thing, and he needs to look somehow normal by the time grocery shopping is over, but the thing is also that he’s just – his chest is honestly swelling in relief and while he can’t fucking believe it –

Shit. He searched that jacket because he thought something was going wrong.

Who’d have thought that instead things were going better than he had assumed they’d ever be. Christ. He never even presumed that they’d go past the stage they’re at, and he’d have been more than fine with it really, but knowing that instead he’s not the only one who thought it was _that_ serious –

Well, he knows both of them are on the same page on that, but he just never assumed it would be _this_ page.

Fuck. He has to stop himself from laughing hysterically now – maybe it’s a good thing he learned _now_ , or whatever Sean’s planning for the fucking _proposal_ would have turned into a frankly embarrassing moment.

He’s _definitely_ going to be ready for it when it’s the moment, though.

 

III.

 

He’s trying to not let it show, but fuck damn it, Sean really hopes that this doesn’t blow in his face.

Never mind that he decided things based on what he thought Michael would like, and damn but he feels ridiculous as two days before they’re due at HQ he stares at him and says, _meet me on the roof in ten_.

He had expected Michael to ask _why_ , but instead he shrugs and says he’ll put on some clothes and go. Given that he had just come out of the shower, maybe it wasn’t a bad idea.

“So,” Michael asks not long later, “you mind telling me why we’re standing on my attic’s rooftop, possibly breaking the law, at _eight fifteen in the morning_ , or is it just because?”

“As if you care that we’re breaking the law.”

“Right, good point, I don’t. So?”

Sean takes a deep breath. Then another. He considers going down on one knee but that’d be _entirely_ too ridiculous.

So he moves forward and stands up in front of Michael.

“Search me.”

“Sorry, _what_?”

“I’m saying, _search_ me already.”

“Is there anything in your pockets I should know of?”

“You won’t know if you don’t get started already, will you?”

“Okay, okay,” Michael replies, looking up at him, and –

“Look at that. Was _this_ the thing?”

He’s holding up the blue box in between his fingers – Sean’s not thinking _what the actual fuck_ anymore just because he’s gotten adjusted to it, but the bastard could at least pretend it’s taking him more than two seconds.

“Let’s say it is.” He grabs it back, then takes a deep breath and – shit, he had a speech ready, more or less, but –

“Yes, you idiot.”

“Sorry, _what_?”

“That’s a _ring_ box. You _specifically asked me to search you_ to find it while we’re standing on – well, the place we met. I guess. Sort of. So, unless you’re playing the worst joke in the universe on me, I think I can imagine what’s inside it. And I don’t think you’re going through all this trouble for nothing. So, if I’m right about what’s inside it – then I guess I know what you were about to ask. And I’m saving you the trouble of going through the speech, I know you hate speeches.”

For a moment, Sean can’t literally say one single thing, because he’s just too floored by that reply, and then his brain catches up and –

“Wait, so – but you haven’t even seen it!”

“Do I need to, if the point is that _yes_ , I’d marry your stubborn ass tomorrow if there weren’t endless waiting lists in this city?”

And thing is – he looks radiant. Maybe it’s that it’s a sunny day and it makes the guy look even more stunning than usual, maybe it’s that he can’t seem to be able to stop grinning and Sean’s stopped trying to  _not_ finding it illegal years ago, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man happier in the time they’ve known each other and so he just shrugs and opens up the box. “Yeah, smartass, you were right. Now, I guess asking you would be completely ridiculous, would it?”

“Maybe,” Michael agrees, “but if you want to just because at this point you _should_ , I won’t stop you.”

“I can’t even – fine.” He takes the ring off the box and pockets it again. “So, I guess you _will_ marry me if I ask nicely enough?”

“You don’t need to ask nicely, and you know already.”

So maybe Michael’s hand is shaking ever so slightly as Sean puts the ring on it.

He wants to ask about it, but a moment later there’s arms around his neck and Michael’s kissing him with enough enthusiasm that he might have gotten toppled over if he didn’t have very good balance, so he doesn’t.

He has better things to think of, after all.

 

End.


End file.
